


When I Have a Pack, Things Will Change

by Tahlruil



Series: Winding Roads to Flowering Fields [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Grocery Shopping, How Do I Tag, M/M, Making Dinner, Morally Ambiguous Peter Hale, Mystery Solving and Cuddles, Peter is Unimpressed, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Slash, Sassy Peter, Scott McCall is a Bad Alpha, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Scott is a Failwolf, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 08:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13700427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: "Well it is a grocery store, Scott," he said without looking up from the package of steak in his hand. John had been having a difficult time at work with all those pesky disappearances and Peter thought the man deserved a treat. He had to weigh that against the knowledge that Stiles would be upset, however, which had him debating if he shouldn't grab the 'extra lean' cut instead of going with the regular kind of lean. "Even us deviously evil masterminds must eat and the takeout in this town is deplorable."Peter heard a subsonic growl leave McCall's throat and let himself smirk with satisfaction. Frustrating the so-called Alpha was different than pissing him off, surely...





	When I Have a Pack, Things Will Change

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So it's been a while since I updated this series, but here's the next part! :D
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy! <3

"What are _you_ doing here?"

It took everything Peter had not to roll his eyes and simply walk away. True Alpha or not, McCall wore his supposed authority like an ill-fitting cloak. All Peter heard from him was whiny teenage nonsense, and all he saw when he looked at McCall was poorly choreographed posturing. Still, the boy was an Alpha and Peter was quite alone in Beacon Hills from a werewolf's point of view. Well, Stiles would probably rise to his defense should he ever be threatened and John would likely follow. Even Chris might reluctantly rouse himself from his lounging around to lend a hand, if only to stay in the good graces of the Stilinskis. It was nice to think they might have his back, but they were all so human. Peter would be more concerned with defending them (well, not Chris) than keeping his own skin whole. There was also the fact that Stiles still considered Scott his best friend and brother and would be upset if Peter was the one to pick this fight.

All in all, despite his contempt it was best that he not piss off the local Alpha _too_ much. The things he did for Stiles.

"Well it is a grocery store, Scott," he said without looking up from the package of steak in his hand. John had been having a difficult time at work with all those pesky disappearances and Peter thought the man deserved a treat. He had to weigh that against the knowledge that Stiles would be upset, however, which had him debating if he shouldn't grab the 'extra lean' cut instead of going with the regular kind of lean. "Even us deviously evil masterminds must eat and the takeout in this town is deplorable."

Peter heard a subsonic growl leave McCall's throat and let himself smirk with satisfaction. Frustrating the so-called Alpha was different than pissing him off, surely, and it had been an extremely stupid question. Besides that, if he wasn't at least a little bit of an asshole McCall would get suspicious. He did not need Scott McCall nosing about his business. The noise cut off abruptly when a young mother with a cooing, babbling baby reached the meat aisle. At that Peter _did_ roll his eyes, because McCall had been a werewolf for several years now - he should know that humans wouldn't be able to pick up on that particular sound.

He should know a lot of things, really. Peter would be willing to take the time to teach him if the boy wasn't so insufferable.

"Excuse me," the woman said as she sidled up to Peter, offering him a tired smile. "I need to--"

"Ah, how rude of me. I've been monopolizing the beef. Here, let me get out of your way." Pretending to ignore McCall was probably edging close to genuinely pissing him off, but it was just so much fun. Still holding the steak, part of him trying to come to a decision on how much of Stiles' wrath he wanted to incur, Peter stepped to the side. McCall actually _huffed_ , and really was it any wonder Peter had no respect for him? All it would have taken was a firm word with even a hint of Alpha command in his voice and Peter - nearly pack-less, nearly _Omega_ Peter - would have followed the direction despite himself.

Instead McCall huffed at him like an offended puppy.

Moving away from meat cooler had put him closer the baby - when he felt her grab hold of his sleeve and tug, he couldn't help but smile down at her. "And who are you, beautiful?" She gave a gleeful little laugh, smiling back at him and pulling on his sleeve again. Scott, he noticed, had started to growl too low for human ears to hear again - Peter kept right on 'ignoring' him.

"I am so sorry," her mother said, quickly turning back to her cart and dumping the meat she'd grabbed into it. "She doesn't know not to be so friendly with strangers. Zoey, sweetheart, let go of the nice man," she added to the baby, taking hold of Zoey's tiny little fist to try and pry it from Peter's sleeve. "I'm sorry," she told him again, smile still tired - she smelled exhausted to him, now that he was paying attention.

"It's no problem. Zoey is far too adorable to be angry at. Quite a grip too," he added, giving the mother his more charming version of a smirk. "Don't worry about it." When Peter reached down to help untangle the baby's fingers from his Henley, Scott stepped forward in a way he probably thought was menacing. The woman seemed to think it actually was, because she gave the teen a wide-eyed look, murmured a 'have a nice day', then zoomed away as soon as baby Zoey had let go. Zoey whined, leaning around her mother to look at Peter, reaching back toward him while opening and closing her fist. Peter waved back, then returned to contemplating his steak.

"Hey! You had better not be thinking of hurting anyone here, Peter. They're innocent people."

"How disappointing. I do love a bit of murder to go with my groceries." Scott actually looked _concerned_ , and Peter sighed. "That was sarcasm Scott. I have no intention of hurting anyone. I came to buy something for dinner and nothing more." Extra lean was the way to go, he finally decided as he set the steak back down. That way he could make fried potatoes to go with them and Stiles hopefully wouldn't be too irritable about it.

"Well if you even think about--"

"As much as I would love to stand here and talk to you all day - truly, it would be the highlight of my life - I really must be going. So much scheming that needs to be done and so little time to do it in. Thank you for the chat." Peter grabbed what he needed and quickly got on his way.

He had hoped to leave Scott behind entirely, but instead the 'True Alpha' had nothing better to do than follow Peter through the rest of the store. Not even with any skill, which was the part that really offended him. Werewolves couldn't disappear entirely, and maybe they weren't the stealthiest of all the supernatural creatures, but it was almost like McCall was _trying_ to get caught. He fumbled around corners, tripped over displays and other people and once even hid behind a magazine as though Peter couldn't recognize him by scent alone.

If Scott had showed even a hint of skill, Peter wouldn't have minded the shadow act nearly as much. That was why he allowed Stiles to get so close to finding his apartment any time he tried to follow behind. He was much better at it than McCall - sometimes it took Peter half the trip to realize his boy was tailing him. Every time Stiles showed that kind of impressive stealth, Peter let him get a little closer before losing him. Someday Stiles would be skilled enough to get all the way there.

McCall wouldn't be able to find it if Peter led him straight to the door.

Peter didn't leave the clumsy, bumbling Alpha behind until he had left the store. He would be willing to bet that McCall remembered he was supposed to be getting something - for Melissa maybe - and realized he should probably get it instead of playing useless games. McCall was an annoyance, one that Peter really wished he could get rid of. Killing him was out of the question (unfortunately) and Peter wouldn't even be able to challenge him for Beacon Hills until he had found another way to become an Alpha himself. It might take _years_ , and who knew what kind of damage Scott would allow to be done in what had always been Hale territory before then.

Maybe he needed to move his plans up, at least a little. He should talk to Stiles about it in any case, since if his boy truly objected he might not seek Alphahood at all. Possibly.

Beacon Hills needed an Alpha though - a _real_ Alpha, since the 'True' one was a miserable excuse for a wolf. Who better to take his place than a Hale? Now that he had regained his sanity, Peter knew he could be a good one. Stiles would allow nothing else - Stiles would help him reach the greatness that he had always been destined for.

Once that happened, he would be very gracious in allowing McCall and his 'pack' to visit, perhaps even live in his territory - so long as they played by the rules. That would keep whiny, fickle, hypocritical teenagers from following him around the market. Only his own would try to do so, and he would teach them how to do it _properly_.

No one in his pack would be as obvious as Scott McCall.

~.~.~

"There is oil in that pan where you are cooking our potatoes," Stiles said in an accusing tone of voice, chin hooked on Peter's shoulder. It was hard not to sway back into him, but Peter managed the urge without too much difficulty. "There is oil in that pan and my dad and Chris are standing out by the grill making steak and drinking beer - you are supposed to be helping me keep dad on track, not feeding him red meat and grease."

"It's an extra lean cut - tenderloin, and I trimmed any extra fat myself before handing it over. The fried potatoes are--" Peter let out an oof when Stiles jabbed him in the ribs, then looked back and glared at the teen. "Excuse you."

"I am not letting you justify fried potatoes, Peter. The steak defense was pretty good, but there is no way--"

"Your father is having a difficult time at the station," Peter said loftily. "I made him eat oatmeal and sent him to work with a salad that had no dressing and only a few pieces of turkey to top it off. He deserves a treat."

"A treat would be some ice cream for dessert." Stiles paused a moment, then sighed against Peter's ear. It absolutely did _not_ make Peter shiver or react in any way, because it was just air, not anything wonderful and thrilling. "You bought him ice cream, didn't you?"

"Technically it's very cold yogurt."

Stiles tucked his face against Peter's neck and began to laugh - it was harder not to react to that, because along with warm breath moving over his skin, he could feel the vibration of it as well. All he wanted to do was turn around and pull Stiles into his arms to scent mark him, trace the tips of his fingers over Stiles' moles, kiss him sweetly... but it wasn't time yet.

"You're ridiculous, zombie-wolf. Tomorrow we're having fish to make for it." Peter let out a dissatisfied rumble, which made Stiles laugh again. "It's your own fault Peter. No pouting."

"I don't pout, Stiles."

"Yeah, sure, okay. Whatever you say dude."

"Don't call me--"

"Scott texted me and said that you were lurking in the grocery store," Stiles said, grinning against his neck when he snorted in response. "Said you spent twenty minutes menacing the other shoppers and threatened a mother and her baby."

"The baby's name was Zoey and the only person I 'menaced' was the man who went after what was supposed to be _my_ bag of potatoes. He still walked away with it and I had to find another, so clearly I wasn't trying very hard. Also, you should inform Scott that stealth is not his strongest suit. He followed me through the whole store and did it so badly that it was like a comedy act."

"You let someone take your bag of potatoes? Wow. I bet you smiled at that baby too. You're going soft in your old age, Peter," Stiles teased into his ear. Peter scoffed and tried to elbow Stiles in the stomach (gently, of course) but the teen danced back - when Peter glanced over his shoulder at him, Stiles was wearing an almost manic grin. "See? Can't even match speed with the squishy human. You're way off your game. I'm gonna have to find another wolf to keep me safe at night."

The very idea of it made Peter want to rend flesh and snap bones, made him want to rip out the throat of any wolf who dared to even _think_ of getting so close to Stiles or his bed. It was enough to make him start to growl, low and threatening as his wolf perked up, looking for any threat that would try to take what was _his_ away from him. It was a fight to keep his claws from emerging, and he was sure his eyes were flashing electric blue.

Suddenly Stiles was in his space again; he pressed one hand to Peter's back between his shoulder blades before firmly running it down the length of his spine. A moment later two arms were wrapped around his waist and Stiles was plastered against his back instead, face again tucked against Peter's neck. "Hey... Peter, relax," Stiles said quietly, calming some of the fury that had been building up in Peter's chest. "You're the only wolf for me."

It was almost shameful how quickly Peter's growl turned into something much closer to a purr. Hearing Stiles lay verbal claim to him made his wolf want to roll over and flash his belly; it was so close to everything he wanted. Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath, soaking in the calm that came with Stiles' touch. "I think that's a joke you might not want make again, hm? It leads me down the path of murderous thoughts sweetheart, and you've forbidden me from carrying through on them. It's enough to make a werewolf cranky."

"Got it. Jokes about other werewolves looking after me shelved. Did you know that it's illegal to duel with water pistols in Massachusetts?"

"Did you know that in Alaska it's illegal for a bar to give beer to a moose?" Stiles gasped and drew back, though Peter was quick to put a hand over Stiles', keeping the teen from letting go of his waist.

"Peter. Have you been looking up trivia facts? For me?" Stiles sounded delighted by the thought, and Peter couldn't help but smile. "That is maybe the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, I think. Now I _have_ to marry you."

"Since you haven't graduated high school it might be just a little too early to be making wedding plans."

"Stiles, no getting married until you finish college," John said as he entered the room - his appearance made Stiles yelp and pull away from Peter so fast that he almost fell over. He would have if Peter, who had heard the man coming, hadn't turned and grabbed hold of one wrist to steady him. "How are the potatoes coming? Steak's almost done and I am starving."

"Dad. You get one - count 'em, _one_ \- serving of potatoes," Stiles said, holding up a finger for emphasis. "Also, I can married at eighteen, which is like, half a year away. So the whole college thing? Not enforceable under California state law, daddy-o. April eighth hits and I'm marrying the first stripper I come across just to make a point."

"Glitter in bed is a deal breaker for me, Stiles."

"Not every stripper uses glitter, Peter. Stereotypes are not a good. ... hey, have you ever been interested in--"

"No," Peter said at the same time John did. They shared a look of fond exasperation, and then - because he knew it would irritate Stiles - Peter held out his closed fist. After a second, John snorted and gave him the fist bump he was looking for. As he predicted, Stiles made a choked noise, then a motion that suggested he wanted to strangle both of them.

"Okay. You two? Not cool. Also boring. I'm going to go hang out with Chris, who knows that adults who fist bump are lame. Also - one scoop of potatoes. Peter if you sneak him any before we have steak, I am going to know. I will know and I will hurt you, got it? I have wolfsbane and I am not afraid to use it." Stiles gave them one last disgruntled look, then headed out back where Chris was manning the grill.

"He's relentless about that damn diet," John said on a sigh as he rinsed out his empty beer bottle. "I hate feeling like the kid in our relationship." Usually Peter would avoid such talks like he might an Argent, but he liked John. Not only did Peter like him, he was also Stiles' father - someday he might be family, and for now he was also pack of a sort. "It's my own damn fault, but it's still not a good feeling."

"Stiles is very headstrong. It's not all that surprising to have him take the reins of any relationship he's in."

"It's nice of you not to call me a terrible parent," John said, expression amused but his eyes sad and troubled. "But I was. I was a shitty father after Claudia died. Took me too damn long to crawl out of the bottle and find my way back to my son. By the time I stopped seeing her in him, Stiles was already self-sufficient in all the ways that mattered. Now he's the one laying down the law in the house. I'm a shitty parent and you'd be right to call me on it."

"I've never been a father," Peter ventured cautiously, well aware that he was navigating a minefield. "At least not that I can remember. Talia took away any memories I had with Malia," he added, trying and failing to keep the bitterness from his voice. Perfect, wonderful, golden child Talia had _stolen_ what should have been the most important thing in his life. Bitch. "Now I know about her, and I can't bring myself to reach out. I follow her sometimes," he said softly, staring down into the frying, greasy potatoes. It was something he hadn't even told Stiles, afraid his boy wouldn't understand. "I watch her from a distance and wonder what it would be like to be her father. I could go to her, tell her the truth - I could reach out and try to play a role in her life. But I don't."

Peter looked over at John, who looked both sympathetic and understanding. He had never expected the opportunity to get to know John. Really, he had expected John to begin shooting him on sight once he found out about Peter's relationship with Stiles - and that only if he didn't start using wolfsbane bullets after the first time. Instead he was getting the chance to get to know the man, and Peter was constantly surprised at the way they got along.

"Being a parent seems... difficult to me and I'm not even an active one. I am well aware of the fact that you made mistakes and so is Stiles. The fact that _you_ recognize it is important, at least in my opinion. Stiles still loves you which I think says it all."

"Maybe," John said as he looked out the window, probably watching Stiles and Chris. "Or maybe it just says a lot about Stiles." There was a moment of silence between them and then John sighed heavily. "Aw, hell. I didn't mean for things to get heavy."

"It's fine. You're pack," Peter told him as he flipped the potatoes one last time. The words slipped out easily and without thought; maybe it was time to stop pretending that their little four-person unit was anything else. Though that meant giving Chris a place in his pack - a distasteful, irritating notion. "Pack is there for pack."

John settled a hand on Peter's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Peter wondered when that kind of gesture had become so common that he no longer flinched away or tensed up. Before the Stilinskis, before _Stiles_ , touch had always been a violent thing. No one touched him out of kindness, the intent to comfort or even just to help solidify pack bonds. It had been used to hurt, except for when it had been the clinical, impersonal and infrequent touches from his caretakers during his coma.

With the Stilinskis, touch was everything it should be within a pack. McCall could take a lesson from it, and Peter sometimes wished that Cora and Derek were there to take comfort in it.

"Glad to hear it son. That goes both ways - remember that. I'm not stupid enough to think you'll never be in trouble again. I'll be here when that happens." Peter had never expected to feel fond affection for anyone but Stiles, at least not until he became an Alpha again and built up a pack of wolves. John Stilinski, however, had found his way into Peter's heart as easily as Stiles - Peter was clearly helpless in the face of any Stilinski. He should probably be more upset by that. "Now. What do I have to do to get you to use the big spatula to portion out the potatoes?" John asked, eyes shrewd when Peter looked up at him again.

"No red meat for the next two weeks," Peter said, smirking when John groaned theatrically. "I'd apologize, but I think we both know that Stiles can be an absolute terror. I'm not ashamed to admit that I would like to stay on his good side whenever possible."

"You've got yourself a deal then. Let me get the spatula."

~.~.~

Peter watched Stiles from where he was stretched out on his bed, hating the way his boy's scent had gone slightly sour with disappointment and self-loathing. He had been staring at the map of the preserve for twenty minutes, touching each pin that marked a disappearance, winding string around them, muttering to himself. McCall still had no idea what was going on - they still didn't even know if they were supernatural or not. Peter wasn't sure if McCall was riding Stiles hard to find an answer or if Stiles' own irritation was driving him forward. Either way, Stiles was becoming just a little obsessed.

"There has to be a pattern," he said to himself for what had to be at least the hundredth time. "There just has to be. Disappearances aren't uncommon in Beacon County, but this is more than Beacon Hills has seen from the past two years combined. There's _something_ going on."

"Maybe it's a serial killer. That would be new and exciting," Peter said while turning the page of his book. "Easy to take care of as well. Just one good snap of the neck--"

"Scott can barely bring himself to kill rampaging wendigos," Stiles interrupted with a shrug. "No matter how many people a human killed I think Scott would still be all for jail time and trying his hardest to help them find redemption."

"And yet I am irredeemable. It's just hurtful, really. Even if I know it's only because he's still upset with me for biting him. It was only the once - I don't know why he carries on about it so."

"Yeah. It's a real mystery. Peter, would you please look at this? Maybe you'll see something with your zombie-wolf eyes that I'm missing." Peter didn't even look over at the board, much less get up and examine it at Stiles' side. He was far more interested in reading his book.

"It's probably the Fey Folk. I can't imagine they would stay away now that the Nemeton is once again acting as a beacon for the supernatural. Our family history is littered with tales of their blessings and meddling both. If a human were to wander uninvited into their midst... well. The good news is that most of them are probably still alive."

Peter expected Stiles to chime in right away with question after question. Instead there was a long, long pause - long enough that he finally pulled his attention away from his book to look up at Stiles instead. When he did, he found Stiles gaping at him, mouth open and hands limp where they were half-buried in his hair. After a moment Peter watched as Stiles' nostrils began to flare and he knew that there was an explosion pending.

"You... you... _you_!" Stiles shouted, throwing his hands up into the air. "What the hell man? What the actual fuck? Scott brought me in on this _weeks_ ago and we've had nothing, zilch, zip, nada. I've been running in circles and tearing my hair out trying to figure out what's going on and you've just been sitting pretty on a possible answer? Really Peter? _Really_?"

"He didn't ask," Peter said, frowning and marking his place before setting his book aside. "I assumed this was a bit of McCall pack business that I wasn't invited to be a part of."

"Okay, fine, fair - totally get why you wouldn't tell Scott. You volunteering information to him would probably mark the beginning of frigging Ragnarok. What I wanna know is why you didn't tell _me_. That's the part I don't get."

He had a point and Peter knew it. As soon as he'd heard about the disappearances and looked at Stiles board, Peter had suspected the Fey Folk were involved in at least some of them. Maybe he should have volunteered the information right away instead of hoarding it. Maybe he should have gone directly to Stiles with his suspicions and a possible solution as soon as he had them. It was only...

"You didn't ask either." Peter had aimed for nonchalance and only managed to sound like he was sulking. Irritated at himself, he crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw, looking away from Stiles and out the window instead. "You knew I was here, you know I think of you as pack and you didn't ask. Clearly you wanted to keep me out of things as much as your True Alpha did."

Peter knew he sounded like a child deprived of sweets, but he couldn't help it. Stiles was his but he wasn't - Stiles had an Alpha that didn't even know how to be a werewolf. Stiles had an Alpha who was supposed to be Peter's beta. Stiles had an Alpha that wasn't _Peter_. He didn't like it even a little bit, but Stiles had been very clear in telling Peter to butt out of that part of Stiles' life. Stiles didn't want to hear Peter's thoughts on the matter, and Peter had taken him at his word. Now Stiles was _upset_ about it and it was just too damned bad.

"Oh my-- Peter. You absolute moron. I _always_ want to hear what you're thinking. Okay, no," Stiles said before Peter could interrupt. As he attempted to hold back a growl at the attempted lie, Peter felt a tic start in his jaw. "No, that's not... okay. I told you to butt out of my relationship with Scott and the pack - I didn't mean to... dude. I just don't need to hear that they're using me or that Scott's a hypocrite or whatever your thought of the day regarding him is. I didn't... Peter."

Peter had heard Stiles approaching the bed, and he fully expected his boy to sit on the edge. He wasn't expecting to end up with a lap-full of Stiles when the teen straddled his thighs instead. A moment later, Stiles' hands - larger than he would have expected - framed his face and gently turned his head until they were looking each other in the eye. Part of Peter wanted to snap and snarl, wanted to say that Stiles and his _other pack_ didn't _deserve_ the information Peter could give them.

Except it was Stiles, and Stiles deserved everything he had to offer. It didn't matter if Peter was hurt by the way Stiles kept choosing McCall and McCall's pack - Stiles was a human, and he wasn't as bound by pack hierarchy and allegiances as werewolves were. Until he chose to bare his throat and accept an Alpha's claim, Stiles wouldn't even be able to pack bonds. Peter shouldn't be punishing Stiles for that, no matter how much it hurt and infuriated him.

"I'm sorry," Peter said at the same time as Stiles. The unintentional chorus made both of them smile, and Peter settled his hands on Stiles' hips. "I shouldn't have needed to be asked. Not by you."

"But I should have," Stiles said, searching his eyes. "I know you would have helped if I asked, and I know I asked you not to interfere with me helping the pack. By not asking I was telling you to butt out of pack business altogether huh? So I should have asked. So I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be sorry. Pack is there for pack. No matter what I think of McCall or his... leadership abilities, you're pack. I'm the one who's sorry."

"I am too."

"You shouldn't be."

"Well I am. What are you gonna do about it?" Stiles asked with a grin, leaning down a little to press his forehead to Peter's. "Gonna growl at me? Because I'm not afraid of you even when you're all wolfy."

"You should be. I'm dangerous, you know."

Stiles was so close, and Peter would only need to tip his head back a little to catch Stiles' mouth with his own. To keep himself from doing just that, Peter pressed his face against the side of Stiles' neck and breathed in deep - he loved the smell of his boy, loved the way his own scent was now woven into Stiles' base scent. Both of them smelled like _StilesandPeter_ , and it would take days, maybe weeks of spending time apart before that would change. It soothed that hurt part of him and started a purring rumble in his chest. He skimmed one hand up Stiles' side, ignoring the way it made his boy shudder, then closed his hand around the back of Stiles' neck.

"You are dangerous," Stiles said quietly, both of his hands buried in Peter's hair. "But not to me."

"Never to you, or your father," he agreed, loving the way Stiles sighed in pleasure when Peter squeezed the back of his neck.

"How about Chris?"

"I probably wouldn't stab him in a dark alley." Stiles laughed at that, which made Peter smile and wind his free arm around Stiles' waist. He pulled his boy close for a moment, then decided that having Stiles move around in his lap that way was going to have him growing hard unless it stopped quickly.

"Probably?" Stiles asked, then yelped when Peter rolled and brought him down to the mattress at the same time. His hands had left Peter's hair in the process to let his arms wrap around Peter's shoulders; even before they were settled, Stiles was laughing again. "It's not even time for bed yet, zombie-wolf," he said fondly.

"Could be," Peter said as he nuzzled Stiles' neck and kept breathing in his scent. "Could trap you here until you fell asleep - you still look tired. And yes, Stiles, maybe. Chris is irritating."

"He's pack." Peter made a rude noise and he knew without looking that Stiles was rolling his eyes. "He is, don't even try to tell me otherwise. You don't have to like everyone who's pack, right? It isn't about that."

"Not always," he allowed. "... do you want Chris in the pack?"

"I think he already is, and I think deep down you know it too."

"You know Scott isn't the Alpha of _this_ pack, don't you?" Peter shouldn't press, he knew he shouldn't - it was a sore subject for Stiles. His friendship with McCall, the way McCall was a terrible friend and even worse Alpha, the way Stiles belonged to two different packs... it was all part of a large, sore subject. He couldn't help it though, not when he desperately wanted Stiles as his own. For now it would have to be enough to share him, but part of him still needed to know that Stiles had a grasp of the situation. He needed to know that Stiles understood that he was McCall's yes... but that he was also _Peter's_.

"... I know."

"I won't kill him - not unless you asked and I'm certain you never will. But I _will_ be an Alpha someday Stiles," Peter said, sliding his fingers down Stiles' arm, squeezing his elbow before continuing on until he had a light grip on Stiles' wrist. Pulling back enough that he could look into Stiles' eyes, he drew Stiles' wrist to his mouth and pressed a soft, lingering kiss over Stiles' pulse point. Stiles drew in a ragged breath, eyes wide and heart pounding, but he didn't pull away. "Will you still be mine then, Stiles? When I can offer you, your father, even Chris a place in a _real_ pack?"

"... as long as you don't go crazy again, dude." Peter could tell that Stiles was trying to be flip, but his voice was husky and his tongue kept darting out to moisten his lips. Peter's wolf was internally howling with victory, and Peter wanted to sink his teeth into Stiles' flesh, lay his claim so that everyone could see it. "And if you tell me all about the Fey Folk who may or may not be stealing people from the Preserve. Oh, and if you promise to see if Kira and maybe Malia want to join too. And you have to call Derek and Cora back from Mexico. And--"

Peter put a hand over Stiles' mouth to quiet him, trying not to laugh at all the conditions Stiles was laying down. He'd meet them - every single one, no matter how ridiculous they got. Since he had a feeling they would change and be added to daily, he didn't need a full rundown just then. It could wait until he was closer to his goal - Peter had several contacts keeping their ears to the ground, on the lookout for rouge or incompetent Alphas. Once he had a plan and the opportunity, Peter would get Stiles to list everything Peter would need to do in order to secure Stiles' brilliance and fierce loyalty for himself.

"I'd be happy to tell you all about the fey, sweetheart, if you take a nap with me first."

Stiles wasn't the only one who could throw out conditions, after all. From the way Stiles grumbled but rolled over so Peter could spoon him and drape an arm around his waist, Peter wasn't the only one who could accept them either. Maybe it was only eleven in the morning and too early for a nap - they could both ignore that. And while the rash of disappearances was serious and Peter should have told Stiles about his suspicions right away, it was a problem that could be put off just a little longer.

He was content to breathe in the scent of _StilesandPeter_ and listen to Stiles' heartbeat as they both drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com), if you wanna say hi. I also really, _really_ want to post something every day in March. So if you have any prompts, please feel free to drop me an ask! I'd super appreciate it.  <3 I'm especially hoping to make Thursdays my official Steter posting days, so throw any prompts you might have at me!
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and maybe leave me a comment if you liked it? :'D


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